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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26124772">Dream Sequences</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustachebabs/pseuds/Mustachebabs'>Mustachebabs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sleepaway 2020 Run [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sleepaway (Roleplaying Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, character musings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:40:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26124772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustachebabs/pseuds/Mustachebabs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Penelope may never find rest, but at least while she's asleep she can attempt to parse out whatever her deal is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sleepaway 2020 Run [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Camp Howling Ground (Sleepaway 2020 campaign)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dream Sequences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Her dreams are just as exhausting as her waking hours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s the ones with the field, everyone’s usual dream scene. The sky is clouded and the grass is dry and it feels like the wrong season all together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stands in it, among the tall grass, following after shadows of others. The field loops endlessly and everyone is just beyond her grasp right before they fade in the distance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s Willow, who offered her more than she could handle. As Penelope reaches for them, she knows this and can admit to herself that it is a problem entirely of her own. During waking hours, she can’t do much else than keep Willow at arms length and hope she can work herself away from worrying about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind her she hears laughter and she finds Ash, Valentine, and Sinclair, backs towards her as well. They look relaxed, maybe sharing a story or two from campers. She takes a step towards them, but any attempt to join them results in them disbanding, moving on. The thought that she might not be the leader she thinks she is rushes through her, maybe she’d turn away from herself if she could too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight, there’s also Steven, whom she manages to reach much too late. As she touches his shoulder, the wind around them picks up as he turns. It’s not him, of course it isn’t. His face is someone else’s, covered in swirling shadows and too many eyes, but above all it’s the wicked smile that sinks into her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Startled, she backs away and stumbles, but when she lands it is gritty sand and not grass underneath her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now she’s at the shores of the lake, surrounded by no one except a distant fog and a ring of rocks neatly set around her. She recognizes them and approaches the one without a name. Hers. As she picks up the rock, underneath there’s a whittling knife and a piece of twine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she takes the knife and twine, she places the rock back in its spot in the circle. The flower she’d painted on it is faded from the elements and she considers for a moment the idea of belonging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moves on, takes the few steps towards the shore of the lake. She looks at herself in the reflection of the lake, the whittling knife in her hands. She watches as the reflection reaches for her hair and cuts off a lock, then she ties the bit of hair with twine and sets it on the surface of the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watches it drift away and disappear in the distance. There’s calm for a moment and then, the sound of breaking glass startles her and she wakes.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dreams, am I right?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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